


as it seems

by explicitomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 17-18 years old, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bottom Harry, Light Angst, M/M, Murder, Murder AU, Original Characters - Freeform, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Louis, Violence, Young Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne - Freeform, a plot twist that everyone will probably see coming, idk if there'll be ziam action but i'll update if there is, maybe angst if im hating myself enough at the time, maybe some fluff, nothing too graphic, the boys do some of the stabby stuff, the good stuff, the parents pop in sometimes bc they're still in high school, they also have jobs because realism, they're all graduating, u know what, what else do people tag fics with
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-14 02:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11198661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explicitomlinson/pseuds/explicitomlinson
Summary: One moment can change people's lives forever. One night, one day, one hour, one second. Everything can change.But sometimes, it isn't always as it seems.or the one where there's a murderer in town, the boys are a fucking mess and never really know what they're doing, but are going to try to fix things anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey lads,  
> so this is the first ever mystery/drama thing i've ever written so i apologise if it sucks. i don't have a beta because i always befriend people i ask to do it and i don't let my friends read my stuff but if you'd like to try hmu i would be forever grateful. please leave feedback and point out any mistakes so i can make this fic the best it can be !!  
> thank you and happy reading x

They were laughing as they ran down to the edge of the river, the moon shining down brightly on them. The wind was crisp as it blew off the water, goosebumps appearing on their arms as they bumped into each other. The taller boy laughed as he bought the shorter into a headlock, running his knuckles over his scalp, tousling his dark hair. The shorter boy struggled, kicking at his friends ankles until he loosened the grip around his neck. They both laughed, his friend nudging him on the shoulder. 

"You're a twat," the shorter boy grumbled, ruffling his hand through his hair to try and find some semblance of normality with the strands. His friend merely grinned at him, continuing towards a small bridge that connected the two opposing sides of the river. He sat so his legs hung over the edge and he could swing them, trying to reach the water, patting the spot next to him so his friend would join. 

"You're a real romantic, mate," his friend laughed, nudging their knees together. He shifted his jacket, pulling out a small flask with a large smile on his face. The moonlight was reflecting off the flask, his pale blond hair, his bright eyes. He was picturesque in the moonlight, outlining his pale features beautifully. It was a thought he had been having about Koby a lot lately, how his nose curves just so and how the dusting of freckles against his cheeks is one of the most endearing things he had ever seen in his life. He didn't want to admit it to his friend, wasn't sure how it would be taken, so he thought these things quietly, whispering the words into the night sky while he was alone. 

"Only for you, Ko," he laughed, his stomach fluttering as he watched Koby take another swig from the flask. At sixteen, they probably shouldn't be drinking, especially with no one knowing; but when Koby turned to him, smile brighter and more alluring than the moon, he couldn't turn it down. He took the flask into his delicate hands, shivering in delight as his fingertips lingered on Koby's longer than the situation warranted. Koby was staring at him through his lashes, which almost appeared silver in the moonlight. 

His heart was racing and his palms were starting to sweat slightly as he maintained eye contact with Koby, taking a quick sip out of the flask. His face screwed up in disgust, the liquid burning as it made its way down his throat. The moment was ruined, Koby tilting his head back and letting out a boisterous laugh before snatching the flask back playfully. He sighed internally as Koby turned away from him, staring down at the water, hair falling in his eyes. 

He ached to reach out and tuck the stray strands behind Koby's ear, tilt Koby's face towards his own and finally close the gap between their lips. It's something he has pictured many times, in so many different scenarios, it was almost familiar by now. But it was a ghost feeling, and he wanted the real thing. He wasn't sure how Koby felt about him, or boys in general, but it was something he had to know - how this beautiful, carefree, funny and loving boy's lips felt against his own. Now, with the stars shining above them and the moonlight hitting Koby's cheekbone just so. . . it felt right, it felt romantic, it felt like the moment he had been waiting for. 

"Koby," he whispered, his words almost getting lost in the wind. Koby still turned to him, a lopsided grin plastered across his face, his eyes bright - with excitement, with the alcohol he had consumed, who knew - and his cheeks flushed. "I-I need to tell you something."

"Do you ever just look up at the sky and think about how spectacular it is?" Koby let out a wistful sigh, turning his face towards the moon and the stars and the galaxies and entire other universes swirling above them, just waiting to be discovered. "Do you ever just look at something and you're so overwhelmed by the beauty of it? So much so you want to explore every part of it until it's as familiar to you as your own self?" 

"Every day," his voice cracked slightly. Now, Koby looked at his dark haired friend, watching as he bit his lip and pinched one of his thumbs. Their eyes locked, Koby's breaths as heavy as his, his eyes shining so bright, more beautiful than the galaxies Koby was so enamoured with. He surged forward, meeting Koby's lips with a hesitant press of his own. When Koby didn't push him away, he shuffled closer, holding Koby's face in his hands. Pulling him closer, ever so closer, ignoring the splash of water as Koby dropped his flask, ignoring the wind whipping at their hair; ignoring everything but Koby's thigh pressed against his, Koby's lips moving with his own, Koby's hands in his hair. Koby, Koby,  _Koby_. 

It was everything he imagined and more. It was butterflies swirling in his stomach and fireworks going off and a cup of hot cocoa in front of a fire. It was summer days spent at the beach and listening to your favourite song after a long time and finally getting the thing you've been craving most in the world. It was electric, exciting, it was everything he had imagined it to be. It was the first time he had kissed a boy. And this boy was kissing him  _back_. It was a revelation that made him press into Koby's body harder, pressing his lips, hands, thigh, more firmly. 

Koby broke away with a gasp, his hands slowly falling from his hair to his shoulders. Their chests were both heaving, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He could kiss Koby under the stars for hours. "I-" Koby's voice was croaky, his eyes wide. His hand slowly moved to touch his lips, eyes not leaving his dark haired friend, as he slowly shuffled away, moving to stand up. 

"Koby?" He questioned, scrambling to stand as Koby backed away slightly. "Koby, I'm sorry." He didn't  _understand_. Koby was kissing him back, had seemed just as invested.

"I can't be going around kissing boys." Koby stated, tripping over his own feet in his haste to turn around and walk away. He stood there, mouth agape, as he watched Koby walk away from him. 

"Koby, why? If you like it, why not?" He practically begged, following his friend as he crossed the bridge, walking along the bank of the river. 

"Because boys don't kiss boys," he stated, almost emotionless, as he moved tree branches and shrubs out of his way. 

"Koby, you can kiss whoever you want," he argued, wishing he had his phone on him so they had some sort of illumination. The moon didn't seem as bright anymore, wasn't illuminating the dark spaces Koby was picking through, not illuminating the dark spaces in his heart. 

"No," he huffed, slipping slightly and catching himself on a tree branch. His friend moved towards him to help, but he yanked his arm away. "I can do this on my own."

"Okay, Koby. It's alright. You don't have to be kissing boys, but please just get away from that edge." The bank dropped off, into rocks and sand before meeting the water. A fall could possibly break bones, and that was not something he wanted to risk happening to Koby, especially after he had been drinking. 

"No, I don't have to be kissing boys," he repeated, almost as if he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. He was still picking around the edge of the drop, huffing in frustration every so often. 

"Why are you so against it?" He demanded, frustrated in the way Koby was acting. Just because he had been drinking doesn't mean his actions can be dismissed. 

"Because it's not right! Boys aren't supposed to be kissing other boys." He turned to his friend with bright eyes, looking almost desperate that he agree, but was met with a shaking head. 

"That's not true. Can you please just move away from the edge?" He pleaded, stepping closer with his arms outstretched. Koby shook his head desperately, moving away from him, closer to the edge. He stopped in his tracks, dropping his arms and Koby seemed to relax. 

"I lost my flask," he muttered, holding onto a tree branch and leaning over the edge of the drop, staring down into the river. 

"What? Koby I really think-"

"I lost my flask because of you!" Koby turned, hands fisted at his sides, chest rising and falling rapidly. "You kissed me and I dropped the flask and I need it back!" He yelled, stomping his foot in frustration. 

"It's okay, you can get another," he tried to calm the situation, but Koby looked more infuriated, eyes positively burning as he regarded his friend. 

"No I can't! It's my Dad's, you fucking idiot! He'll kill me!" He dropped into a crouch, holding the heels of his hands to his eyes, rocking back and forth slightly. "I just need the flask before I go home." He sounded broken, his voice soft and barely carrying over the wind. 

"Come to my house, and we can look for it first thing tomorrow morning," he offered calmly, walking towards Koby with his palms outstretched in a show of surrender. 

"No, you don't understand," he stood up, leaning backwards as he tried to get away from his friend's advancing figure. He tripped slightly, shoes slipping on the damp leaves and twigs underfoot. An arm caught his, pulling him back up. 

"Koby," he sighed, tightening his grip slightly. He had never seen his friend drink before, wasn't sure if the overreaction was due to the alcohol or the kiss. Either way, it hurt. It hurt to see his best friend, who trusts him with every aspect of his life, not trust him enough with something this important to him. 

"No, I don't need-" he cut off as he wrenched his grip out of his friend's arm. 

He saw it happen almost in slow motion. Koby, ripping his arm out of his grip, stumbling backwards, losing footing as twigs and leaves shifted under his shoes. Koby, falling backwards, eyes wide and mouth an "O" of surprise, reaching out for something, anything, to grab on to. Him, moving forward to grasp at whatever he needed to, to stop Koby falling. Him, being too late. Koby falling over the edge, eyes locked with his the entire time. 

His stomach churned with guilt and tears sprung to his eyes as he yelled out Koby's name. He sat down and shuffled forward, holding onto an exposed tree root to lower himself to the bank of the river. His own broken sobs, echoing in the night as he took in Koby's limp form. Koby, eyes closed, blood slowly mixing with the river water from a large gash on his head where he hit a rock, face slightly submerged. Koby's skin, paler than he ever thought possible, not even a slight flush to his cheeks like there had been for the past hour. Koby's hand unresponsive in his, fingers hanging limply as he desperately tried to have Koby squeeze, twitch, anything against the palm of his hand. His own vision blurring with tears as he stood, slowly moving away from Koby's still body. 

Hands reaching, tugging on whatever was around, feet struggling to find a purchase in the mud along the riverbank. Hands hauling a body up, looking back one last time. Feet, picking up speed, careful not to slip. Across the bridge, passed the park, down the quiet streets. Street lamps flickering, crickets chirping, dogs barking. Everything was normal, everything was okay. Except Koby. Except him. He felt detached, as if his conscience was a seperate being from his body. It was not him running away from his dead best friend. It was not him stopping at a park across town, scrubbing mud off his shoes and under his fingernails. It was not him that killed his best friend. 

It. Was. Not. Him.


	2. o n e

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we're introduced to the boys and their dynamics

_ TWO YEARS LATER _   
  
The moon was shining down on them, bright and full, adding an ambience to the scene that Louis especially appreciated. The fire was flickering in front of them, the heat at the point just before uncomfortable, the glow from the flames casting a softness onto the faces of his friends.   
  
Ashley was smiling softly as she strummed her guitar, singing softly about soulmates and how fucked up love is. Niall was across from her, watching on fondly. Louis felt almost sick. Another gulp of his rum, another minute passed, another crackle of wood in the fire pit. It was an almost-tradition of theirs now, coming to Louis' house, sitting around a fire and sharing pieces of their souls with each other.   
  
For Ashley, the part of her soul she shared was her music. She didn't often play for her friends, despised the thought of them critiquing her work, but she had yet to disappoint on their annual gathering. For Niall, it wasn't much different as his usual self. Niall shared so much of himself so often, he didn't need just the one night to share some secret part of himself to his friends. It was just second nature to him by now.   
  
For Louis, it was pieces of his past. Of course, he had known Niall and Ashley for years - it was hard not to in a town as small as theirs - and yet they still had so much to learn about him. Small pockets of memories, hidden just for Louis, were broken open for one night a year. Unthreaded quickly, with the help of alcohol, before quickly being sown back up before the memories became too much to handle, too much to stomach. He often told them little facts as well, seemingly useless, meaningless facts, but facts that meant a lot to Louis.   
  
Like the fact that Elvis Presley was playing when he lost his virginity, or that when he was younger he would eat entire apples - core and all. These little pieces of Louis, that he had shared with very few others, slowly became Niall's and Ashley's to keep. They would catalogue these pieces, question them, laugh at them, and store them away, never to be used again. But they had that piece of Louis forevermore.   
  
They shared parts of themselves, his friends, parts Louis probably didn't deserve to see. Yet, they sat down in front of his fire, pouring their hearts and souls out, all for him. So he felt comfortable to do the same. So he could forget, forgive, move on. They were amazing friends, ones Louis really didn't deserve, even if they were making heart eyes at each other over the fire. They were still amazing.   
  
"You two love birds should go on ahead. It's been two months, it's a big deal!" He said suddenly, cutting into the silence of the night. The looks thrown his way told him the night most likely wasn't silent before he intruded, but he brushed it off. "Please, if I have to watch you eye fuck for another second I'm going to puke on both of you."   
  
"Ever the charmer, Lou," Ashley laughs, the gesture sounding like tinkling wind chimes in summer. She was quite beautiful, with her dark hair and bright eyes, features round and soft. She was a beautiful almost reflection of Niall, with his dark hair and pale eyes, although his features were more sharp angles than round.   
  
Niall offered him a sad smile, before looking back towards the flames. Niall didn't like to leave Louis alone very often, especially when he had been drinking, even though Louis assured him that he was an adult and could, in fact, take care of himself. His insistence always ended in Niall giving him that sad look, as if he's an addict refusing to get help. Louis didn't know what it meant, or why Niall looked at him like this from time to time, but it made his stomach churn and his heart sink.   
  
"It's okay, Mum," Louis directed towards Niall with a playful smile. "I'm just going to go to the park, go on the swings. It's been years since I've had a good swing at the park." His voice was wistful and it became obvious to even him, in that moment, that he was very, very drunk. The park was a safe place though, well illuminated and in the midst of houses and shops. Nothing would happen to Louis, and if - knock on wood - anything did happen, people would know about it very quickly. It was one of the perks of living in a small town.   
  
Niall watched the way Louis' hand twitched against his thigh, the way his eyes were shifting, not quite looking either of them in the eye, the strained set of his mouth; Louis was uncomfortable with Niall babying him like this, especially in front of Ashley, although it had happened many times in the years since Ashley joined their little crew. Niall finally sighed, wiping his hands on his trousers before standing, sharing a tired smile with Ashley. "Okay, Louis. We're going to go for a late dinner, but please text me when you're home safe."   
  
"You don't have to worry about me, my good friend. Forever safe, I shall be." Louis grinned, standing abruptly to pull his friends into a warm, slightly sweaty, hug. "Happy anniversary, my favourite couple."   
  
They laughed softly, patting him on his back and shoulders. Niall asked him a million more times if he was okay, and finally they were off. Louis let out a deep sigh, sinking back into his seat. He picked up his bottle of rum, chugging the drink until there was enough space to add coke to the bottle. It wasn't the smartest way to do it, but Louis had always thought outside of the box, even if it wasn't always the smartest option. He looked through the glass of the sliding doors leading back into the house, seeing his mum curled up in the armchair, probably reading one of her thriller novels she loves so much.   
  
He let out a wistful sigh, slowly getting to his feet. He felt nostalgic - over what, he wasn't sure - but as he held his face up to the stars, letting the moonlight wash over him, he couldn't help the feeling that washed over him. He missed the feeling of being a kid, squealing at the beach when the water would go past his knees, building sand castles and collecting shells. He missed the feeling of sneaking off into the woods when he was fourteen, smoking his first ever cigarette with a girl he was trying to impress. He missed the feeling of his friends not mothering him and being worried about him at every turn. He missed the feelings of before, before he became an adult and had all of these responsibilities hanging over his head.   
  
But now, graduation is in months and not years, he is looking at universities and scholarships, his friends are in serious relationships, he has a steady job and he has to vote. Being an adult is bullshit, and he hates it. He hates knowing that by the time he starts university he'll be nineteen, and that's if he doesn't take a gap year, which is becoming a greater possibility each passing week as the lads talk excitedly about going on a road trip around the country, going on the road less travelled and all of that cliché shit.   
  
With an unimpressed hum, he opened his eyes and lowered his head, blinking away the white spots left behind by the bright moon. Huffing, apparently not impressed by much tonight, Louis made his way out of the backyard, closing the gate behind him. He eyed his old bike, before deciding against it. He didn't have a cup holder for his rum and he wasn't going to try to steer one handed. Walking it is.   
  
He didn't mind, the sky clear and the stars burning bright like the beautiful balls of gas they were. It was exceptional, he thought, how the stars seemed to burn brighter here more than anywhere else. Going to a big, city town was always daunting, because it was so different to what he is used to - there are no sprawling fields, no horses to pet on the way to school, the stars don't burn as brightly and the air is never as crisp. It has a quality, Louis' home, one he doesn't think he wants to leave, not even for a higher education. He just can't imagine himself outside the confines of his town, of his home, of the familiarity that surrounds him here.   
  
A twig cracked to his left and Louis' heart began racing as he squinted into the darkness. The problem with this town being heavily bushland, Louis mused, is that anyone could be anywhere at any turn. A kookaburra guffawed, almost as if mocking Louis' fear, and he raised his middle finger, swaying in a circle so the kookaburra would definitely get the message wherever it was hidden in the trees. Another swig of rum and coke, another step; a few cracking twigs and asshole birds were not going to stop Louis from reaching his destination.    
  
It took him longer than desired to finally reach the park, his rum almost gone and his stomach sloshing unpleasantly. He payed no mind to either of those problems, opting to head straight to the playground, the moonlight making the painted colours of the structure shine almost magically. It felt like a magic night, an odd electricity humming in the air, Louis' heart fluttering as he took in the beauty around him. He could see the river from here, glinting slightly under the full moon.    
  
He lay down on the bridge connecting two platforms of the playground. He looked up at the stars before it became too much, too bright, too many unanswered questions. He closed his eyes and hummed to himself as he let his imagination run wild. He imagined he could hear it, the slow trickle of water calmly heading downstream into the large lake just outside of town. He could almost hear the laughter of children as they splashed each other, having competitions on who could dive the best and who could hold their breath the longest (but only when their parents weren't looking, lest they get in trouble). Families were having picnics and barbecues in the park, uproarious laughter from the parents who may have had one too many, music playing from an old boom box. They were happy memories, happier times when the river wasn't tainted with mystery and loss.    
  
He sighed, opening his eyes and turning to the side, looking towards the river again. He did a double take, sitting up slowly and squinting towards the direction of what once was his favourite place. He could have sworn . . . no. He shook his head, hoping to clear it. It only managed to make him dizzier, more confused. He could have sworn he saw a spot of silver hair and long limbs, but it was the alcohol tricking his senses into seeing something he wishes were there. Louis Tomlinson may be a lot of things, but crazy is not one of them. With a suffered groan, he picks himself – and his rum – up and slowly goes down the slide, his head thrown back to watch the stars move with him.   
  
They're beautiful, these bright balls of gas floating in the atmosphere, brightening the night sky. They'll burn for thousands of years, burn beautifully for us, and soon they'll be 

gone. Just like humans, he supposes. They burn so brightly, so beautifully, until eventually they're gone too, their light taken as well. With another long suffering sigh, Louis hoists himself up, tries not to think about death, and walks away from the playground, promising himself he won't look back.    
  
He doesn't notice the pair of eyes watching him leave.

 

* * *

 

_ Connor’s Corner  _ was a small cafe in the middle of town, filled with mismatched furniture, a large array of books and one very out of place fish tank. It wasn’t an ordinary place to work, Liam knew as much, but he never really thought he would want it any other way. It combined two of his favourite things - books and coffee - and allowed him to meet so many more people with similar interests, even if they only extended to their taste in novels. 

 

It was especially entertaining on Friday nights, when Connor opened up the small stage in the corner of the store, holding an open mic night of sorts. It’s always bought in more business, the small space packed and alive with people drinking coffee, wine, or eating small meals at the small tables pushed to the side of the space. There was someone on stage now, strumming a guitar and covering a Matt Corby song, eyes closed, losing themselves in the music. He always wished he could be like that, could lose himself in music, in the twinkling keys of a piano or the soft hum of a guitar, but he had never been musically inclined. He was always an academic, something that he appreciated but would definitely change if he had the chance.

 

A customer cleared their throat in front of him, shaking Liam out of his thoughts. “Sorry,” he smiled, his most charming smile, but the unimpressed look stayed on their face. Liam tried to not let his smile drop. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

 

They pursed their lips, regarding Liam with thoughtful eyes. Their hands were placed in line with their shoulders on the counter between them, Liam trying to figure out whether it was a defensive move or an intimidation technique. The stranger was still staring, and Liam began to shift uncomfortably. The thing was, Liam knew everyone in this town; whether it was through work, school, or just general acquaintances, Liam knew everyone by face if not name. This man, Liam could not place, and with features like his, he would be memorable. He had painfully sharp features, a sharp jawline, a thin, long nose and wide, almost pixie-like eyes. His hair was very light, almost silver in the dim lighting of the cafe, his eyes an icy blue. His skin was pale, paler than Harry even, and he looked like he should belong in a fantasy novel. 

 

It took an embarrassingly long time for Liam to realise that he was trying to place an order, blushing at the furrow in the man’s thin brows. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” 

 

“Can I please have a tall mocha?” The boy repeated and Liam urged his mouth not to drop open. His voice sounded like it belonged in a choir, reminding him strangely of church bells, somehow being high and low at the same time. Liam had never been more awed by another human being, not that he would ever admit that to Zayn. It wasn’t even that this person was  _ attractive _ , they were just so interesting in their look and manner that Liam couldn’t help but be awed. They definitely had to be something supernatural. 

 

“Yes, of course,” Liam put it through on the register, trying not to gaze back up at the stranger too quickly. Out of the corner of his eye, he swore he could see them smirk, but he ignored it, focusing on doing his  _ job _ , not the sharp featured boy in front of him. “That’s four fifty please,” the stranger nodded, digging into his pocket for change. “Do you sing?” Liam blurted, cheeks heating up once again as the stranger laughed, not even looking up at Liam as he counted out his change.

 

He finally met his eyes, a darker blue than they were before, something genuinely bright in them. “I dabble a little,” he admitted, hanging Liam over the exact amount of change. “I considered doing something tonight, but I had plans.”

 

“Maybe next week. If you come in before next Friday, I can write you in a proper spot,” Liam offered, putting the change in the register and focusing his attention on closing it, rather than the boy in front of him. He felt oddly exposed under his gaze, like this person knew all of his secrets, like he was being sized up. 

 

“Thank you,” he smiled at the barista that handed him his coffee, before turning his gaze back to Liam. “I’ll think about next week. I think I might quite like you yet, Liam,” he added after a short pause, turning on his heel immediately and walking out of the store, not casting Liam a second glance. 

 

Liam felt himself flush, ignoring the knowing gaze of Kim, turning to smile at the newest customer in the line. He didn’t even think to question how the stranger knew his name. 

 

  
* * *   
  


Biology, in general, is interesting. Learning the way the human body works, how it continues to give life, is interesting. The scientific terms, even, are interesting as much as they are complicated. 

 

Biology, after two hours of reading through notes and cross referencing text books, is not all that interesting. Yet here they were, sitting on Harry’s bed, flipping through their books and barely speaking. The HSC year was hard, it was annoying and it was stressful. Thank God it’s almost over. 

 

“Harry, we are wasting our lives away. It’s a Friday night, we’re both eighteen. We could be having  _ fun _ ,” Zayn pouted, shoving his textbook away with a huff. 

 

“Do you want to pass year twelve?” Harry cocked an expectant brow and Zayn just rolled his eyes, turning until he was laying on his back. Zayn had less of a tolerance than Harry when it came to studying, his mind too unfocused, always looking for new things; staring at the same times new roman font describing the processes of the human body for two hours straight didn’t cater to that. 

 

“Yes, I do, but I don’t to become a saint, either. I want to do fun stuff,” he pouted again, unfairly pretty in the soft light of the lamp on Harry’s bedside table, and Harry rolled his eyes. 

 

“Zayn, listen to how quiet it is out there. Nobody’s doing anything tonight,” he paused, Zayn realising he was right. Usually, on a Friday and Saturday night, you could hear the happenings of the town. Muffled music, overexcited teenagers running down the streets yelling to each other, giggles and whispers as people stumbled home together. The usual symphony of Friday was unusually missing. 

 

“Maybe you’re right,” he mumbled, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He should have worn his glasses and not bothered with the contacts. 

 

“Plus, there’s only twenty minutes until we can stop,” Harry said cheerfully, flipping a textbook page with fake enthusiasm. Zayn wanted to fight him. 

 

“Only because Liam forced you to stop being a knob,” he complained, dragging his textbook back to him and clicking his pen. He knew it was important, they were approaching their trial exams after all, but he couldn’t find it in him to be motivated. Harry had been relentless with his study timetable, and had forced Zayn to join as his designated best friend, even though Zayn didn’t know what he wanted to do with his ATAR yet. Harry always argued that just because he didn’t know what he wanted to do with it, didn’t mean he shouldn’t try. Zayn always hated that he was right. 

 

“How are things with you two?” Harry asked, breaking his own no-talking-about-personal-stuff-while-studying rule. Zayn sort of, really, wishes he would adopt that rule again. 

 

“It’s okay,” he muttered, suddenly very interested in the different types of muscle movements. 

 

“Just okay?” Harry let out a low whistle, dramatically looking away from Zayn with wide eyes, a scowl making its way onto Zayn’s face. He was definitely going to fight him. 

 

“Shut up,” he groaned, shoving Harry with his foot. “It’s more than okay, I just don’t want to talk about it.” He highlighted some meaningless words on the page, avoiding Harry’s gaze and trying to ignore the sparkle in his eye. 

 

“Come on, talk to your good pal Harry,” Harry grinned widely, moving his things to the side and sitting with his legs crossed, expectant. Zayn wanted to whack him over the head with a pot plant. “I could just ask Liam,” he started when Zayn pointedly ignored him. “He would probably be more forthcoming with the information anyway.”

 

“Okay, fine,” he threw his highlighter to the side, ignoring Harry’s satisfied wiggle. A heathen, he was, disguised by his curls and big eyes. “He’s gorgeous, he’s so smart but it’s not in the traditional way, you know? He just has so many ideas and such an amazing, creative mind and I never get sick of hearing him talk. He’s nice to everyone, he’s caring, he is everything I ever wanted and more.” Zayn huffed, collapsing back onto Harry. 

 

“So, basically, you want to take his name and have his children?” Harry laughed and Zayn snorted, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Zayn Payne? Are you kidding me, Harry? He would be Liam Malik for sure,” Zayn didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he had just essentially confirmed that he had seriously thought about Liam and him getting married. He’s a sap. 

 

“You’re a sap,” Harry accused, pinching Zayn’s cheeks until he slapped his hand away. “Are you dating properly yet or still claiming it’s ‘just sex’ while you’re introduced to the parents and look at each other all soft?” 

 

Zayn scoffed, immediately dispelling the  _ slander _ that he and Liam looked at each other “all soft”. He may be infatuated with Liam, sure, and he may fit in effortlessly with the Payne family, but Zayn did not look at him  _ softly _ . “He wants to wait until the HSC is over to get into anything serious,” he said, voice as soft as the looks he throws Liam’s way (Harry will never give up on that), picking at the fluffballs permanently found on his socks. 

 

“A smart lad,” Harry nodded in understanding, ignoring Zayn muttering under his breath that Harry was as much of a dumbass as Liam if he thought it was a good idea. They needed nothing but positive vibes tonight. “Want a smoke? I think we still have some in the tree house.” The tree house, one of the most ridiculous things Harry has ever tricked his mum into letting him do, but also one of the best. It was the best place to take someone when he wanted privacy, whether it was for a secret conversation, to make out, or to light up. Anne wasn’t stupid, knew that there was more going on in that tree house than he was letting on, but he was almost graduated and she knew she couldn’t control what Harry did forever. 

 

Zayn sighed as if it was a great upheaval, but followed as Harry shoved a jacket on and pulled his Uggs on, Zayn opting for the giant bear claw slippers Harry had gotten as a joke on his sixteenth birthday. They hurried outside, the August wind nipping at their exposed skin, climbing the steps to the treehouse quickly. The windows of the treehouse weren’t proper glass - rather, made out of some clear perspex - but they were sealed properly and there was a blanket to shove under the door to stop the draught. Harry collapsed into one of the bean bags, Zayn shoving in next to him, pulling a blanket over them both. It was comfortable, it was familiar, and Harry was feeling fantastic.

 

With how much is changing recently, with his social life, with school, with  _ life _ in general, it was nice to have some familiarity. Talking to the careers advisor three times a day, applying for universities six hours away, saving his money for his  _ future _ like he was an actual  _ adult _ \- it was all daunting and unfamiliar and Harry hated it. He hated change, hated feeling like things were out of his control, hated having to act like he had his shit together when - to be frank - none of his shit was together. Like, at all.

 

Zayn lit up the joint he just rolled, taking a long drag, reaching forward to pull across the “curtain” (an old tea towel) from the window. From this angle they could see the stars, shining brightly in the clear night, could hear the chirping of crickets and the faint breeze. Zayn passed the joint to Harry, before running his fingers through his hair. “So, how’s Tomlinson?” 

 

_ Speaking of not having my shit together _ , Harry thought bitterly. Zayn just watched as Harry blew out the smoke with a sigh. “Tomlinson is nothing to me at the moment,” the lie itched at his throat, making his eyes water slightly. The problem was Tomlinson was quite close to everything to Harry at the moment. Why, fucking  _ why _ , did Harry have to be infatuated with a cute boy in the most important months of his life? Why couldn’t he have found Louis fucking Tomlinson in year ten and have saved himself the struggle? Why couldn’t Tomlinson just not be a twat and save him the struggle?

 

They were quiet for a few moments, Harry passing the spliff back to Zayn and trying to count the stars. It wasn’t working very well. “He hasn’t acknowledged me for, like, a month,” Harry whined, stealing the joint back to take another long, exaggerated drag, before passing it back. “You’d think when a guy pours his heart and his secrets out to you, he would at least acknowledge you when you walk down the hall. Apparently not,” Harry scoffed, sounding bitter to his own ears. He probably wouldn’t be this bitter if he didn’t get a taste of what it was like to be someone that Louis Tomlinson trusted. Louis was admired by everyone and talked to everyone, but only allowed a few select people to be considered his actual friends and only trusted them. For a weird, magnificent moment, Harry was one of those people. Until, the next day, he was no longer needed.

 

“You don’t do that. Fuck him, man,” Zayn grumbled, smoke puffing out of his lips as he spoke. Harry snorted.

 

“I’ve been trying,” he pouted. Zayn looked disgusted for a split second before he burst out laughing, Harry shushing him with a laugh of his own as he realised Zayn would probably wake up his parents. “Honestly, he’s a lost cause. There’s no point worrying over it, I should’ve known nothing would come out of us talking.” 

“He’s fucked, Harry, don’t let him affect you.” Zayn’s words resonated deep within Harry.  _ I ruin everything _ . The words ran through his mind, slurred accompanied by a glassy, almost pleading, stare. He stole the spliff out of Zayn’s hand, taking a desperate drag. He didn’t want to remember that. He wanted to remember a lot of things about Louis Tomlinson - how his eyes crinkle when he smiles, how he throws his head back to laugh, how soft his hair is, how delectable his ass looks in skinny jeans - but the empty look in his eyes on that night was not one of them. 

 

They sat in quiet, the blunt finished and thrown to the side, the only sounds in the night distant crickets and Harry’s own shallow breathing. Zayn was rubbing the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist with his fingertips, sending shivers down Harry’s spine. Harry hadn’t felt this relaxed in a while, in one of his favourite places next to one of his favourite people. His eyes drifted close, focusing on the slow drag of Zayn’s fingers against his skin. His senses were on overdrive, being able to feel every sensation and hear everything around him. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, but he didn’t understand why; he felt at ease, his body warm and comfortable. 

 

And then he heard a yell. 

 

He sat up quickly, almost knocking his head against Zayn’s shoulder, his eyes wide and panicked. He crawled to the front of the treehouse, Zayn going toward the window and moving the makeshift curtain aside. “Is that . . . Tomlinson?” Zayn sounded as confused as Harry felt. Louis had apparently fallen into a bush, one arm sticking up straight clutching a bottle of rum, as he lay face down in a shrub. “Should we help him?”

 

“No,” Harry said softly, watching as Louis wiggled his body downwards, slowly falling onto the grass. Harry could see Louis’ breath coming out in short spurts, the cold air turning it white. He looked beautiful, the soft light from a street lamp casting shadows on the sharp planes of his face, his body bundled up in a thick jacket and comfy looking tracksuit pants. “He should be fine.” He had a reputation for getting quite rowdy when he was drunk, but he always managed to take care of himself. That was one thing everyone knew about Louis Tomlinson: if you took him to a party, you wouldn’t have to look after him. At least, that’s what they all thought. 

 

Zayn seemed skeptical but moved away from the window, concern evident in his eyes as he looked down at Harry. “If you say so, mate. Let’s go inside,” he added after a few seconds of awkward silence, the atmosphere ruined. Harry didn’t understand why, but he got up with a sigh, brushing off his jacket and jeans and trying not to think of how small and vulnerable Louis looked, looking up at the stars. It wasn’t Harry’s business, nor was it his place, anymore and Louis had made that abundantly clear.

 

If, when not long later they heard an ear-splitting scream come from the park, either of them thought of Louis, they didn’t mention it to each other. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey lads!  
> i hope you're all enjoying this, please leave kudos if you are. if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.
> 
> if you want to see what im doing outside of writing, follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/castielhome) and you can message me any questions you have if you dont want to comment them.
> 
> thank you and i hope to see y'all soon.


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